Eavesdropping Arnold
by detectivezelda
Summary: After being publicly humiliated, Arnold ends up overhearing Helga monologing! What will happen?
1. Overheard Confession

**A/N: Hello there! Thanks for stopping by.**

** This story used to go by the name The Overheard Confession of Helga Pataki, but I decided to rename it Evesdropping Arnold because it's not as much of a mouthful. I hope you enjoy, and decide to stick along as I write my take on what would happen if Arnold had actually overheard Helga confessing, meaning FTi never took place. **

**P.S: Hey Arnold characters do not belong to me, but I have fun writing about them. ^^**

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I've always been a bit of an optimist.

Seeing the good in a situation that seems rather bleak is pretty much second nature to me. I guess I just refuse to give up on hope. There's a bright side to everything, or at least, that's what I do my best to believe anyway.

I couldn't figure out the bright side, however, to being rear first in the cafeteria trashcan with everyone around me laughing at my current predicament. To put it simply, while I was embarrassed, I was just really annoyed. Helga definitely had a knack for getting under my skin in ways nobody else could. She was probably the only one who could bring out a darker side I didn't even know I had.

"Next time just make sure you stay out of my way, Football Head," Helga says, crossing her arms in front of her chest as she glares at me.

"_It's not like I try to cross your path much these days, anyway,_" I hear myself mutter. I can't believe those words escaped from my mouth, but it _was_ true. I had mostly given up on finding the good person deep down. Perhaps, Gerald had a point. There was never one to find. A bully can never change her stripes.

"Whatever," she says, turning on her heel, and exiting the cafeteria, leaving me in a state of confusion as to why she was the one leaving me behind. As if I were in the wrong here. Considering we were in the eighth grade, and I had known her for a good chunk of my life, I was sure I would never understand Helga Pataki.

"Man, oh man," Gerald, said, helping me from my grisly prison with a slight wrinkle of his nose. "I can't believe she actually went through and chucked you out like last weeks newspaper. That chick is definitely not one to tangle with."

"Yeah, I just don't get it. I always feel like I might be missing something, but I don't know what," We had gotten along okay before, but lately there had been tension between the two of us. Rather brought on by me or from her I wasn't sure. It was just the sort of situation that I was never sure how to approach, and if I did, it only served to complicate things between us even more. Girls were complicated beings, but Helga was on a different level completely.

Gerald shrugged. "Nothing to miss. She doesn't like you, man, simple as that. Just stay out of her way, and I'm sure she'll gladly stay out of yours."

"Yeah, you're probably right," I say, sighing. "I just wish that you weren't."

"Hey, _Arnold_!" Harold yells from his seat a good yard from where I stand. "You're supposed to poop inside of the toilet. Not inside of your pants! Haha!"

I turn my head around to catch a small glimpse of what had to be a large, brown patch on my behind. I can feel a blush warm my cheeks as the cafeteria erupts in a fresh fit of laughter. Great, now I'd have to find a way to live this down.

"I think I ought to try and do something about the stain," I say, frowning. "I'll see you later, Gerald. Thanks for helping me out of there."

He smiles sheepishly as he nods. "I'll try to find some way to get them over it, okay?"

"I doubt that," I say, grimacing. "But I appreciate the moral support."

"Anytime, buddy," We do our 'secret handshake' and I make my walk of shame out of the room, watching as Harold pounds the table like the stain on my pants is the funniest thing in the world, Eugene squirts milk out of his nose and falls backwards off of his seat, and I even notice that Lila has a small smile on her face, which she tries to mask with her hand. Yup, I'm very much annoyed.

I exit the cafeteria, and continue to walk briskly down the hallway towards the restroom. I am hoping with all my might that nobody will pop out to add more insult to the injury I'm sporting, when I hear something muffled, a voice, coming from somewhere nearby. Normally, I would just keep walking. There were classes still in session, perhaps all I was hearing was a voice coming from one of the nearby rooms, but for some reason, I know that isn't the case, and my curiosity gets the better of me.

I listen carefully; walking towards an unknown destination that was definitely not the restroom I actually needed to be heading towards right then. Quickly scanning the area, I figure out that the voice is coming from behind a pile of trash bags sitting in the hallway. I raise an eyebrow at the questionable location. As odd as it is for me to believe that anyone would choose such a location to be in, I _did_ know of a person crazy enough to do it, even though she was kind of the last person I wanted to see at the moment. I sigh and turn around, not wanting to be tossed into a different pile of trash if it was indeed Helga, but stop short when I catch bits and pieces of a soft and floaty voice that makes my breath catch.

"Why, oh why, do I treat you so, my love!? The yearning I feel for you continues to grow stronger, whilst my behavior repels you further away from me."

I stand there, in the middle of the hallway, slightly shocked. There's no way this voice belongs to Helga. It sounds nothing like her. I didn't even realize I had moved closer until the horrible stench of garbage reaches my nose. Well, since I'm already here...I peek over, not wanting to disturb whoever was speaking. Once my eyes have registered who it is, they immediately widen from shock. It _is_ Helga.

"I've longed to let you know of this deep, all consuming, passion I've held close to my heart. You're my muse, my inspiration, and yet I continue to treat you so poorly."

I'm in disbelief as I watch her staring at something in her grasp as she pulls it close to her chest seemingly out of anguish. This is Helga, right? My personal bully? I'm sure my mouth has dropped open, but I'm still far too surprised to close it. I know I should leave before I become acquainted to Old Betsy, but my betraying ears itch to hear more, and while I know I will chastise myself later for deliberately eavesdropping, I can't find it within myself to leave.

"When will I confess to you these deep-rooted feelings I've clung to wholeheartedly? How I wish for you to understand the depths of how strongly I feel! For it is you that I love! Yes, you Arnold-"

Whoa, wait...Arnold...as in me? She..._loves_ me?

Hearing…_that_ is enough to motivate my legs into moving again. I turn around as quickly as I can and bolt to the restroom, as if running can help me forget her words. By the time I have made it to the place I should have gone to instead, my cheeks burn hot from the exertion of both the exercise and thinking about what I had overheard. This was Helga. Helga G. Pataki! She's been my bully since, well, forever! She _hates_ me!

I begin to feel dizzy as my thoughts continue to spin around this insane piece of information. Heading straight for the sinks, I stare at myself in the mirror, willing my reflection to tell me I was dreaming. Yet he just stares back, his cheeks flushed, hair wild, and his eyes wide in shock and disbelief. Obviously, he can't believe it either.

I splash cold water on my face, and place my hands on the edge of the sink for support. I'm not sure what to do, or how to act to this news. It bothers me sure, but it was information I wasn't supposed to have. Immediately, the guilt of what I have done hits my gut like a bag full of bricks. I never should have stayed and listened in.

As if to make matters worse, the bell rings, signaling that lunch is over now, and I have yet to do anything about the brown spot on the back of my pants. Not to mention that facing Helga right now will be hard, even if I didn't talk to her. I can feel my cheeks burn hot again at the thought of her words. I feel as if I don't know which way is up, and which way is down anymore. Depressing.

I am still surprised, and more than a little confused, by what I heard, but I knew there is no going back now. My mind keeps replaying her words on autopilot. They were words I would have sworn she would never say without being held at gunpoint, and maybe not even then. It is unsettling how easily they slipped from her tongue. As if they are words she says often.

I recall the softness of her features as she spoke. Her eyes lighting up with passion and also a hint of sorrow. I find myself wishing that I could catch another glimpse of her like that. She was off guard and her walls were down. I knew I was probably one of the few, if not the only one, who had ever seen her that way. I blush feeling yet again a niggling feeling deep down. There is no denying it is guilt.

What Helga said was done in what she assumed to be privacy. A privacy that I have most certainly breached. I hate when my conscious got to tell me 'I told you so', but it's saying it loud and clear right now. I know, without a doubt, if she ever found out I overheard her, she would probably murder me on the spot...Actually, no probably about it, which leads to my biggest problem. How am I supposed to act around her knowing..._that_!?

I'm sure that I don't share her feelings. There is just too much ingrained in me that she is my bully. I have never once thought of her as a love interest. Sure I tolerate her, but that is about the extent of it.

I groan, doing my best to rid my pants of the stain and failing miserably. It is still too much! It can't be true! It's Helga after all. Helga! It's more shocking than if Harold were to give up eating all the time, or if Curly stopped being a bit insane. This is out of the blue! It begs for so many other questions to be asked. Questions I wasn't sure I wanted to even ask, or know about because it is Helga!

I sigh and give up on trying to get the stain out completely, and slide my pants back on. Now my pants were damp _and_ stained. I decide to take my blue sweatshirt and tie it around my waist. It's better than nothing, and it hides what I need it to.

I stare one more time at my reflection. I have no idea what kind of charade I am going to have to play, but I have to be ready. I mean I can't afford to mess up. There is no denying that my very life might be at stake if Helga ever found out that I knew. I have to avoid that from happening at all costs.

I groan again as I slap my forehead with the palm of my hand. What a day!


	2. Worrisome Thoughts

**A/N: This chapter also received a slight rewrite. I hope you guys enjoy it and I apologize for the wait. u.u  
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I chew on the eraser to my pencil nervously.

My eyes flicker over towards Arnold's empty desk once more and dread fills me.

Where the heck is he?

Sure, I know he has a situation to attend to, but it's never quite taken him this long before regardless. Not even when I covered him head to toe in spaghetti, and I had previously assumed that would take hours to wash out of his adorable flaxen hair. It hadn't though, and he was back in record time. Way sooner than this that was for sure, and it was a _teeny tiny_ patch! Sheesh!

I tap my foot against the grimy tiled floor, trying not to squirm around in my chair. The Teach droned on and on, but I didn't really care about what she was saying. The more the minutes went by in this claustrophobic four-walled space we call a classroom, the more my mind flies into a frenzy.

It didn't help, or the problem is, that Brainy wasn't right on cue after my monologue. I couldn't recall a time when the little geek bait didn't show up. It was like clockwork. If I were anywhere, but at home when I broke out into one, he would appear. Poof. Like…magic or something.

Not today.

And that bothered me.

Was it an omen? I wasn't sure, but I sat there waiting behind that pile of filthy, smelly garbage for what I thought was inevitable, and he never showed.

It was also strange that when I waltzed into the classroom seconds from the bell, Brainy was already sitting at his desk, completely avoiding my eyes. That's not too out there, but he _was_ acting rather odd, even by Brainy's standards. There he sat, twiddling his thumbs, a blush highlighting both of his cheeks, and his eyes darting every which way in a manner that I would have to claim reflected…guilt.

Ok…what?

Well, it isn't like this behavior is _completely_ unthinkable for Brainy, but he _is_ a freak who seems to love my fist in his face, 'nuff said. What the heck could have happened to make him avoid getting his face bashed in for once? Did he finally start stalking some other girl? Was this even something a normal person would even dwell upon? Even as I try to stop myself from thinking too deeply about it, I can't stop the chill sparking through me that something similar to doomsday is starting and this is only the beginning.

I finally start squirming.

Snapping completely from these thoughts, my heart accelerates against my ribcage as I hear the soft jiggle of the doorknob beginning to turn. It was like the moment before the girl who wouldn't shut up finally gets the axe in a horror movie. You know it's coming, you expect it, but it's still a bit of a rush to see it actually play out.

The door slowly and painfully opens (finally!) as my eyes instantly take in the blonde messy tresses that make up Arnold's hair. I freakin' love it like that. If I didn't have an ounce of sanity left I would have sighed, swooned, or heck, maybe even both. Don't judge me too harshly though. I hardly get a daily dose of looking at Arnold anymore. I blame the stupid hormones flowing through my body for having me stuttering around him nowadays. Yes, stuttering! As if I hadn't been in love with him since forever as is, I'm getting nervous all of a sudden around the guy? Sheesh, I must be turning into a boob.

It takes me a second to realize that I'm probably staring for a second longer than necessary for a casual acknowledgement that the guy is still alive and well. Helga G. Pataki shouldn't care more than that for that stupid, football headed little shrimp. Certainly, she would _never_ give him long lingering, embarrassing, smoldering glances. Not a chance. _Pfft._

That's why, when our eyes lock, it sent a chill down my spine right into the tips of my toes. Arnold never looks my way anymore. I yearn for it, I dream about it, sure, but he always goes out of his way to avoid staring at me straight on unless I make him angry. Maybe that's why I've been giving him more grief than normal lately. Criminy, I'm worse than an addict. Still, I would pick being an addict over and over again if it meant swimming in the green emerald's that made up Arnold's eyes were to be my drug.

I know he doesn't deserve half the turmoil I put him through, but I'm too good at what I do. Still, I can only blame myself for the lack of a decent relationship of sorts with him. It's just whenever he gets close to me, my body freezes, and I can feel an uncontrollable blush bloom on my cheeks. It's like I can't control myself anymore, and that…well, scares me.

I tell myself that it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world if he knew. That maybe if I remove the weight of it from my shoulders it would be easier to be around him. But he would outright reject me if I did. I know that. No guy would take the confession of the one who treats him the way I do seriously, especially not Arnold.

That thought propels me to stick my tongue out immaturely at his gaze. He blinks as he shuts the door behind him.

"Sorry, for being late," he said, his voice a soft lullaby to my ears. "I um, had to take care of something."

"Finally remember what a potty is used for, Arnold?" Harold asks, earning himself a few snickers from the peanut gallery behind me. I roll my eyes, trying my best not to feel guilty and failing. How can I not blame myself when the poor guy had to deal with a buffoon like Harold because of me? Me! I probably single handedly ruined his reputation forever! The thought makes me sink low in my chair.

The Teach says some words to him. I'm not sure what exactly, as my turning mind continues to whirl. I do my best not to stare at him directly while he shuffles over to his seat, the smell of him surrounding my nostrils in his delicious scent. It is totally against my will that a soft sigh does leave my lips right then.

I quickly picked up my book and flip to the page number written on the board, embarrassed. However, I can't stop the frown that quickly replaces my lovesick admiration.

It seriously bothers me that something is off, and that I don't quite know what.

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**A/N: I figured I'd make Helga more into her thoughts while writing as her, whereas Arnold is more observant of those around him, even when bad things are happening to him. x3**

**A review or even criticism would be loved and thanks so much for reading!**


	3. After School Conversation

**A/N: Hello, everyone! I first want to bring to your attention that I've changed the title of this book. **

**If it feels familiar that would be because it used to be called The Overheard Confession of Helga Pataki. There is also the fact that I revamped the first chapter completely, and a bit of the second one as well so that the voices of the characters better match that of the characters from the show. I would say give them a reread and hopefully you enjoy the newer quality. *crosses fingers***

**I'll do my best to update this story at a timely clip now that I've finished giving it a new coat of paint so to speak. If you are a returning reader, and remember this story at all from way back when, I want to thank you for your support in returning to this story. If you are a new reader welcome aboard, and I hope you enjoy your time with our favorite couple of characters. ^.^ I do apologize for my absence. Some of it was life based, and some of it was my own frustrations of not feeling my writing was strong enough. I've given _Hey Arnold_ a rewatch and I'm ready to rejoin my favorite fandom. Thanks so much and please enjoy! Destiny**

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While my initial shock was over, Helga's confession continued to repeat in my mind for the rest of the day. I didn't want it to, but sometimes life can be cruel that way. It didn't help that she had been awfully quiet in class, well, compared to what I was used to anyway. No spitballs, no whoopee cushions, no glue or feathers. Just…nothing which made me worry that she knew I had overheard her, and she was simply preoccupied thinking about the best way to torture me. Or worse. It made me restless. Perhaps, one would even call it paranoid. Unlike most other days, I had to actually concentrate to avoid turning around and staring at her.

Even now, I can't seem to shake that thought from my head as I watch the very person herself walk down the front stairs of PS 118, laughing hard at whatever Phoebe just said to her, earning a smile from the petite girl. She wipes one of her eyes with a finger just as Sid comes flying, practically out of nowhere from where I stand, and bumps into her arm, jostling her eyes open in pure alarm. Quickly, her head whips to the culprit, her eyes narrowing into fine slits, mouth tilting into a frown. She takes one threatening step forward, fist at the ready, and Sid picks himself up, nearly falling once more, before dashing off and flipping over a random ownerless skateboard into a bush. Helga then says something to Phoebe, as she adjusts her backpack straps, rolling her eyes as Phoebe responds back, and-

"Earth to Arnold," A familiar voice cuts through the trance I'm in, his hand waving in front of my face fully snatching my conscious back to the present. "Hey, Arnold! Are you there, man?"

"Huh?" I say, before I can catch myself, feeling disoriented. I turn my attention back to Gerald who is shaking his head, a frown on his face as he glances in the direction I was just looking in.

"I didn't think so," he says. "Mm, mm, _mm_. Please tell me you don't still have a thing for Rhonda Wellington Lloyd."

"What? No, of course not," I say, my eyes widening. "That was strictly for that one week in the sixth grade. What would make you ask me that anyway?"

"It looked as though you were staring at her," he says, shrugging his shoulders. "At least I thought someone over there caught your attention. I guess I was wrong on that end." He pauses and I know what he's about to ask, in the way his eyes flicker over in that direction again. "Were you thinking about what happened with Helga earlier?"

"Not really." I say, not wanting to lie, but not wanting to actually get into what I was thinking about. It was bad enough I eavesdropped on a private moment. It would be worse if I blabbed about it to my best friend, even if I did want to talk about it with someone. "Well, I guess a little. There has to be more to why she picks so much, you know?"

"There is no reason for it." He says, solemnly. "She's just pure evil."

"Nobody is pure evil, Gerald," I say, frowning. "That would include Helga as well. You're being ridiculous."

"Whatever ya say, Arnold. Whatever ya say," Gerald says, sighing. "Personally, I don't think I'll ever get how you could think there's any bit of good inside of that girl. Especially considering all she puts you through."

"I don't really understand it myself," I admit. "I just don't think she's completely as she appears." Perhaps, that's even truer than I initially thought. I feel my cheeks heat as I think about her poetic words, her sweet voice, that soft expression she held that made her look so…familiar to me. I shake my head. I needed to forget about that. Pretend it never happened.

"You sure are right about that, Arnold." Gerald says sarcastically, as we both watch Helga shoot out her leg, tripping a passing fifth grader. "She's definitely not as she appears."

I sigh, knowing there was no way I could get him to understand. Even if I did want to tell him what I had overheard he wouldn't believe me. Heck, I could still hardly believe it. I accepted it, sure, I guess, but believing it was a whole different ball game all together, and I still wasn't exactly the best at those.

"Anyway," Gerald says, adjusting his backpack strap. "I'm going to be playing cards with a couple of guys later on. Do you want in?"

"No, thanks. I think I ought to be on my way back to the boarding house. I promised Mr. Kokoshka I would help him this evening."

"Oh, yeah. You told me his reading has gotten way better."

"It has. He's definitely improved…in a lot of ways." I recall how Mr. Kokoshka used to be a really horrible boarder, and an awful husband. He had gotten on track when Susie left him for a year. Once he realized she wasn't going to come back after a month of her absence, he worked hard to improve himself, and while he still couldn't hold a job and 'borrowed' the occasional twenty, his improvements were noticeable enough that Susie decided to give him another chance. "Today, he wants me to help him read _Pride and Prejudice_."

"_Pride and Prejudice_, huh?"

I raise an eyebrow. "Have you read it?"

"A sappy book like that? Pfft, of course not, man." He says, bending down to tie his shoe. "Do I look like the Jane Austen type?"

"Jane Austen?" I ask, confused.

"She's the author of the book! Next, you're going to tell me you don't know that the main characters are Elizabeth Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy."

I didn't know that, but…"Are you sure you've never read the book before?"

"Just because I know a few facts doesn't mean I read the book."

"Right," I say, not believing him, and knowing it's quite likely he has read the book, and he just doesn't want to tell me why he had.

"Well, I'm off, man. I'll see ya later."

"Okay." We do our secret handshake and we both go our separate ways, him to his card game and me to the boarding house.

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It's late once I've finished helping Mr. Kokoshka. I walk up the stairs leading to my room with heavy eyes, feeling both mentally and physically exhausted. I open the door and walk over to my bed, grateful that I had showered before I had started the reading lesson. I pull the covers back and plop in, enjoying the way my body conforms to my mattress. It had been a long day in more ways than one, with the promise to be an even longer one tomorrow. I groan, as I close my eyes, and let my consciousness drift, thoughts of pink bows, dresses, and soothing lullabies follow along with me on the road to dreamland.

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**A/N: As always, if you have any critiques, grievances, or just want to share your overall enjoyment levels with the story I would love to hear about them in a review! Thanks so much for reading and I hope you all have a happy new year! (:**


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